Why Does Anyone Do Anything?
by Jambammer
Summary: Jim Moriarty doesn't need a reason for doing anything. Not for killing, not for threatening, not for robbing. She certainly doesn't need a reason for pretending to be a man. Sebastian's just trying to follow the madness.
1. Firsts

A/N: I dedicate this to the friend who got me into MorMor, Moraniarty or whatever pairing name you might use. I have no idea where this came from, but it was one of those that had to be written. I just hope nothing like it's been done yet.

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><p>Sebastian Moran didn't suspect a thing the first time he met Jim Moriarty.<p>

But then, why should he have? Sure he knew the man was bat shit insane – he figured that was why he was so drawn to him. The taunting voice, the change in pitch, his random yet deliberate movements, his small smile that just wasn't quite right…

The fact that he knew everything about the sniper just made Sebastian listen carefully.

Jim had handed him his card, licked his lips, told him that he hoped to hear from him soon, and walked away whistling a cheery tune that made Sebastian's skin crawl.

It wasn't long before he was working _for_ Jim Moriarty. He'd made the call, it had been entirely his choice yet somehow… somehow he felt that it wasn't entirely his own decision. But Jim had that effect on people. Nothing concerning him was ever their own choice.

It was his.

The first time Sebastian did a job for Jim, the Irishman had tagged along. It unnerved him to have someone watching over his shoulder – literally, right over his shoulder. Jim's breath danced along the skin of his neck – but he supposed telling his new boss to fuck off on his first day would have disastrous. Jim probably would have killed him right then and there.

Or perhaps not. For some reason, Jim had taken a liking to him. Sebastian couldn't figure it out. Perhaps because Jim knew what he was really like, even if he hadn't let the sarcasm run free at that point.

But one thing Sebastian never forgot was the look of pure glee that had spread across his boss's face upon seeing their mark hit the ground in spray of blood. Probably because it reminded him too much of himself, and the _incident_ that had gotten him discharged. He might not have been as quick as Jim, but he recognized a hunter's spirit.

That was also the first time he found Jim Moriarty beautiful, and that too should have unnerved him, but it didn't. It _thrilled_ him.

He doesn't know when Jim finds _him_ attractive, but it's after a particularly messy job a few months later when Jim presses their mouths together in a rough kiss and pins Sebastian against the wall.

It's rough and desperate and wonderful except—

"Jim," Sebastian gasps, breaking the kiss.

"Oh," Jim just smiles that crooked smile, "never been with a man before, have you? No matter," Jim grabs Sebastian's wrist sharply and presses it to his crotch, "you still won't."

That's when Sebastian realizes.

Jim Moriarty is a _woman._


	2. Fun

It isn't until he moves in with her that he realizes just how much work Jim puts into making herself into Jim Moriarty. There's a wig – though it matches her natural colour, its main purpose is to alter her hairline. She binds her chest underneath her suits. There's prosthetics to give her face a more masculine look, specifically stubble. Her eyes are unchanged – big and dark and _twisted_ yet lovely.

Sebastian watches her mid transformation, awed by her attention to detail. She catches his gaze in the mirror and smirks.

"I could have been a fantastic makeup artist, don't you agree?" She asks, dabbing at her neck with something or rather. "What a boring life _that_ would have been."

It's a long process, though the results are impeccable. Still, Sebastian can see why she prefers to do her work without face to face meetings.

Some would look at her Jim Moriarty and wonder why she wanted to be a man so badly, or if she did want to be a man so badly, why didn't she go through the process of becoming one? Sebastian did wonder at first, but he soon learned that wasn't it at all. Jim _didn't_ want to be a man.

"People take you _much_ more seriously if you're a man," she'd stated simply. "Well, sort of. They take you seriously sooner. Call me lazy, but I didn't want to play all the little games required to earn their respect. There may be equality or whatever, but it's still a man's world." She'd raised an eyebrow and giggled. "And besides, this is so much _fun._"

Of course it is, because _everything_ is just a game to her. She does things just because she _can._

At their flat, she had no problem with her femininity. In fact, Sebastian would argue that she _embraced_ it. She'd lounge around with her hair down – it wasn't long, it had to be shorter for her wig to sit right – humming to herself and occasionally paint her toenails. Sometimes she'd wear makeup, the downright girly eye shadow and lipstick shit. As a woman, she was pretty. Not striking, but she was still beautiful to him.

She even wore _dresses._

Jim might have been damn good at being a man, but she knew how to be sexy as hell as a woman. One night while he'd been working on a manuscript, she'd leaned suggestively in the doorway, dressed in tiger print lingerie.

"There's a wild animal on the loose," she'd said lowly before biting down on the blade of one of his hunting knives and holding it between her teeth.

He'd been mildly annoyed at being interrupted, but how the _fuck_ was he supposed to resist _that?_

The one thing that always bothered him was what to call her. Obviously her name wasn't _really_ Jim, and it seemed weird to call her Jim when she wasn't being _Jim. _Curiousity eventually prompted him to ask her birth name one day while she'd been sprawled lazily on the sofa, texting and probably ordering some poor sod's death.

"Jane," she'd answered flatly, and he wasn't sure if this were true or not.

In the end, he'd simply started calling her Jay.


	3. Sanity

To say that Jim was violent was an understatement. As _Jim Moriarty_, she had people shot, dismembered, suffocated, and _worse_, right in front of her and she didn't bat an eye. What would have nauseated any sane human being only delighted her. Sometimes, she even had the nerve to smile.

That said it all, didn't it?

"Christ, Jay," Sebastian says after some of her men have removed the body of the man whose brains she'd just painted the floor with. Most days it didn't bother him, but this man hadn't done anything. She'd had him killed for the hell of it. "Was that necessary?"

Her head snapped towards him and _oh fuck he'd done it now._

She approaches him slowly. "I'm sorry, did I hear you right?" Jim asks, each word deliberate and low, even though she'd dropped her male voice as soon as they were alone. "Were you _questioning_ me, dear Sebastian?" She asks, gripping his chin in her hand. It isn't gentle, but he knows better than to complain.

His eyes fixate on her other hand. Effeminate and manicured, but still passable as male. Even though she didn't change her hands with makeup or gloves, they seemed to change with her. Male when she wanted to be male, but female when she wanted to be female.

God, he _loved_ her hands, and all the things she _did_ with them.

"Of _course_ not," he dares to reply sarcastically, hoping he hasn't let his thoughts about her hands creep into his face.

In a second, his skin burns from a slap. Not just a slap, she'd scratched him as well.

"Don't ever question me," she warns as his skin begins to burn, really _burn_. Her eyes light up from his reaction. "Like it? My new nail polish. It's made from snake venom; I got the idea from a book I read a while ago. Or perhaps it was a film. I can't really remember. I don't really care."

"What kind of snake?" Sebastian asks, touching his face gingerly. His skin is hot to the touch, and his nerves scream against the gesture.

"Now, now, I have to keep some things a surprise," she tells him coyly. "Not enough to be lethal," she promises, or at least, he hopes it's a promise, "just enough to _bite."_

"I'm _sure_ it leaves pretty marks too," he comments, knowing how she loves to decorate her victims. Or in his case, lover.

When it came to Jim, was there even a difference?

"Hmm, yes," she purrs. "I have it on clear right now, but I have other shades. _Blood red_ being one."

Jim knows _exactly_ how to work him. Red polish drives him crazy. Something about his fixation with her hands, but the crimson just stands out so _beautifully_ against her pale skin. He's already imagining the markings she could leave on _his_ skin with those claws.

She smiles and drags her hand down his chest as she walks past him, digging her nails in _just enough_.

Sebastian is convinced that she _can_, in fact, read his mind.

He's also convinced that he's just as sane as she is.


	4. Dance

A/N: Happy friday! Enjoy some violent fluff :D

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><p>Jim's taste in music is a little… odd.<p>

Himself? Sebastian prefers hard rock. Anything where the guitars sound like they're screaming. Occasionally when he returns home to the flat and Jim's there, he's greeted by such music.

Other days, it's fucking _Culture Club._

As with most things when it comes to Jim, Sebastian's stopped trying to understand it.

Music is a good sign. If there's music playing, it means Jim's in a good mood. If there's no music, there's likely the sound of something breaking to fill the void instead. Whenever he came home to hear _that_, he sometimes left again before she noticed. Jim's fits of rage range from tolerable temper tantrums to lethal.

Clutching the handle of the bag that houses his favourite gun, he almost hesitates before opening the door. Jim had a big heist in America scheduled for today; news of its success would have arrived by now. He can't hear anything from outside, but the door's been soundproofed in case they ever have to take care of any _business_ at home.

African sounding music greets his ears as he steps inside. The song's just started. He wonders if Jim had _waited_ for him to get home.

He gets his answer when she dances in from the living room, a skimpy African styled outfit hugging her curves.

"Sebastiaaaaan!" She coos happily.

"The job went well?" He asks nonchalantly, pretending he hasn't noticed how her dress – if you could call it that – shows off all the right places as he sets his bag down on a chair and strips off his jacket.

"Wonderfully," she beams, her hips swaying to the rhythm. "My cut will be here within the next few days.

"How much?"

"A few million."

"Jay."

"A few _hundred_ million," she corrects herself, extending a hand. "Come dance with me, pet."

"No thanks. I don't fucking dance." He rejects her, heading to the kitchen. He hears her huff in irritation behind him. "Do we have any food or are we ordering something to the downstairs flat?"

Suddenly Jim's in front of him, the tip of a blade pressing against his neck. If he took another step, the blade would go right through his throat. Jim wouldn't hesitate either.

"Sebastian, _dance_ with me."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "You didn't say _please,_ Jay dear."

"_Please," _it's almost a hiss, but it'll do.

"We can't dance with a knife at my throat, now can we?"

"Don't be difficult."

"You're the one holding the knife."

"You made me do it," she argues, but tosses the blade aside. Sebastian takes her hand and places his other hand on her waist; she promptly pushes it down to her hip. Her smile is back, seeming as though it'd never left. "Do you know what 'dela' means?" She asks distantly, leading him in their dance.

She's going to tell him anyways, but he answers. "'Content,' isn't it?"

"Something like that. It's more of a phrase. 'To possess long enough, to look for something to satisfy one's heart.'" She spins herself so that her back is pressed to his chest. "I think I have it with you, Sebastian. I _burn_ for you."

It's as close to a profession of love as he'll ever get from Jim, and it may not be completely sincere, but it's the best she can manage and it'll have to do.


	5. Soulmates

A/N: To all my lovely readers, thank you :3 I have a question for you all, one that I would like a response on. Are you comfortable with the idea of Jim as a woman? This story does have a plot, I promise, but I need to be sure that you're all comfortable with the genderbend.

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><p>"Do you ever think about fate, and destiny?" Jim asks idly, tracing her finger along Sebastian's chest, memorizing every detail – as if she hasn't already.<p>

He grunts in reply, taking a long drag from the cigarette between his lips.

This clearly isn't what she's looking for, and she lets him know by digging her nails in _just_ enough to be more painful than seductive. "I'm serious, Seb."

"Since when do you care about destiny and shit like that?" he asks back, arching an eyebrow and looking down at the still form on his chest. Jim doesn't move apart from her finger, continuing – but lighter now – to roam where it pleased.

"I'm not saying I believe in it," she corrects him, with that tone of voice that's just a little bit condescending. "I'm saying it's a rather fascinating idea. The idea that people are linked before they're even born, that they're intertwined before they meet." Her eyes look up to his. "Well? Don't you think?"

"I think you've been watching too much of that show about the prince and his magic boyfriend," Sebastian replies coolly, taking another drag.

Jim plucks it from his fingers and presses it to her lips. "I have not," she tells him defiantly. Raising herself up just enough, she blows the smoke slowly in his face. He fights the urge to flip her over and suck the smoke from that pretty little mouth.

Instead, he takes the cigarette back. "Don't you have better things to do instead of watching medieval soaps? Like, _oh I don't know,_ organize _crime?" _

Jim sighs despondently. "Things have been rather quiet in terms of clients lately."

This is a lie. He's heard her on the phone, seen her answering emails. "They have not. You've just been _picky_ about _which_ crimes you choose to involve yourself in."

"Well _duh,_" she replies in a mocking voice, as if he'd just stated what was perfectly obvious. "I want a crime that's _worthy_ of my talents. I'm not the common criminal. I do have standards."

"Right," he crushes out the remainder of the cigarette in the well used ashtray on the night table beside him. "Just hurry up and get me something to shoot again, will you? _I_ haven't had a job in weeks."

"Patience, pet," Jim assures him, tipping his chin up with her fingernail and smiling down at him. "I'll find you the perfect job. One worthy of _your_ talents." She hums happily. "Because you _are_ a talented boy."

"Why thank you. I'm aware."

It's sort of a sweet moment, but it doesn't last long. Suddenly Jim's lying beside him, picking at her fingernails the way she does when she's lost interest in something. "Hurry up and fuck me, Sebastian. And _don't_ be boring."

He never could resist a challenge like _that._

It's only later that he realizes Jim had been trying to suggest they were soul mates.


	6. Trivial

A/N: This chapter's a game changer, hence why I wanted to be sure you all were comfortable with their world :D

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><p>Normally, when she's being <em>Jim<em>, Jim will lounge around in her costume for some time even after she's back at the flat. Why, Sebastian's not sure, but he's just stopped asking _why_ when it comes to her. One thing that never changed was that when she was ready to change out of it, she always let Sebastian help.

Eventually, _expected _him to help. He couldn't say he minded. Helping usually led to _other_ things, provided Jim was in a agreeable mood.

She always started with her make up first. Once she looked female again, _then_ she'd shed the skin of _Jim._

So today, when she comes in complaining about how tight her outfit feels and is practically stripping as soon as the door is shut, Sebastian is rather surprised.

"I _need_ out of this now," Jim whines, throwing her expensive jacket down to the mercy of the floor and yanks off her tie on the way to their bedroom. "It's been nearly _unbearable_ all day."

Late night meeting, Sebastian surmises, considering it's only noon now and he hadn't heard her leave. "How was the client?"

"Boring. Predictable. The _job_ however seems as though it could be potentially interesting," Jim replies, her hands fumbling with the tiny buttons of her white shirt. "Might mean an outing for you," she says offhandedly, trying to shrug the shirt off.

Sebastian helps her out of the offending garment and tosses it on the bed. "Oh?"

Jim's not in a divulging mood. "Soon." She winces when he touches her sides from behind her and starts undoing the binding. "Careful," she warns, but it's not a hiss as he would expect; it's more pain, and curiousity, as though she's cataloging a new sensation.

Not wanting to gain a new scar, Sebastian obeys and peels the binding away from her chest slowly. He can see her face in the mirror; Jim's in _pain_, and she's _not_ enjoying it. She is studying it, just as he'd suspected.

Once her breasts are free, she swats Sebastian's hands away. It's _almost _funny. Jim, _Jim fucking Moriarty_, responsible for innumerable crimes, tortures, and horrific deaths, is complaining about _sore tits_. Still, he has the sense not to laugh.

"Sore?" He just asks, taking one of his shirts out of the closet. The way she's acting, any of hers would be too tight, and he didn't feel like listening to her complain any more than he had to. He'd rather hear about the job. She doesn't answer, but he didn't expect one. "Have they gotten bigger?" He asks, tossing her the shirt. Jim's a small breasted woman, normally, which made binding easier for her but today it was the binding causing the problem.

Jim catches the shirt and looks down a moment before pulling it over her head. "They seem to have, yes. But apparently that's a normal side effect or something with pregnancy."

Sebastian's sure his heart stops.

Jim looks over her shoulder, her expression that of boredom, if he had to label it. "Oh sorry, didn't I tell you? I thought something trivial had slipped my mind."

"Trivial?" He finally manages to choke out. "You call being fucking pregnant _trivial?_"

"What else is it?" She shrugs dismissively. She scowls at his expression. "Don't be like that, dear. Nothing's completely effective. I am human too, or do you forget that?" A small smile crooks at her lips. "Or do you forget I'm a woman?"

In truth, he probably does forget she's human. "So why are you keeping the _fucking_ thing?"

Jim tuts. "It's a _baby_, Sebastian," not that she cares. "I've never had a baby before; I thought it might be rather _fun._" She smiles at him, but it's the wicked smile that makes him shiver.

He was having a child with a psychopath.


	7. Expected

Her pregnancy goes as is to be expected. Which, when it comes to her, means nothing is expected. She does everything out of the ordinary.

They devise new aliases for whenever they have to deal with doctors or any sort of medical personnel. Sebastian decides to decides to keep his first name, and Jim's in a good mood because she agrees to this. Not so much a good mood, but a lazy mood.

"I'll just go by Jane," she decides, stretching her arms above her head. "Now I'm going for a nap. Wake me and I'll put your fingers through a meat grinder. One by one."

"Not so fast, Jay," he stops her, and she shoots him a look that if they could kill, he would have been dead three times over. "We need a last name for our married selves." Out of some misguided idea of romance, Jim had decided they would be married for their aliases.

"Moriarty," she shrugs. "It's common enough, people wouldn't think twice. They tend to ignore the _obvious_."

"It's not safe to—"

"Darling, safe isn't _fun_."

At times, he finds it easy to forget that she's pregnant. She's still thin, just a bit curvier. Her mood swings have become slightly more volatile, but it's nothing that he can't handle; he'll just end up with a few more scars. Some days, he _likes_ to forget that she's got another human inside of her, partially because he's never liked kids nor saw himself as the father type, but also because he likes to forget that _Jim_ is human.

Today is not one of those days. "Jay, fucking think about the kid. Should anything happen to you, you wind up arrested or some shit…"

"That won't _ever_ happen unless I _want_ it to."

He _hates_ that smug look she's wearing, but he continues on. "Having the name Moriarty could only cause more trouble for _all_ of us. Even you." Jim doesn't care about him, or their baby, not really. He doesn't think that she _could_ care, even if she wanted to. No, she cares about herself.

"Fine," she relents with a wave of her hand. "Anything in mind?"

"Morian."

"Ugh."

"It's more Moriarty than Moran," he says defensively, "and it is my fucking kid too, it can have a _little_ part of my name."

Had Jim not been so tired, she'd have certainly argued more. The kid might have even wound up being a Moriarty. She wouldn't have shrugged and waved again and said, "Alright. Now I'm quite serious about the meat grinder, darling. Your fingers will still be attached to your hands, by the way. Just in case that wasn't _clear_."

Sometimes, Sebastian thinks he might even _prefer_ pregnant Jim.

He reconsiders this when the baby scans the next month are labeled "baby Morian." There's no denying it anymore; the proof is there, a tiny grey blob that somewhat resembles a person.

Then she starts to show.

Jim's only reaction is to look in the mirror, huff and say "Definitely no more meetings face to face. I prefer to do my work from my computer anyways. That reminds me, darling, I have a job for you. Do get it over with quickly, I want you back here and naked before the hour's up. If you're not, you may find your favourite _toys_ have disappeared, and I won't bother telling you what I'll do to _you._ Get going, I'll text you the details."

Instead of cravings, she'd send him on to kill someone on a whim. He supposes this fits; she's always craved death more than anything else.

Life could have been worse.


	8. Inconvenient

Jim bounces back and forth from adoring mother (well, perhaps not _adoring_, but more caring than Jim normally is) to intent on removing the child from her own body.

"But it won't let me _sleep_," she whines after Sebastian fights the knife away from her.

"If you wanted to kill it, you should have done so _six fucking months_ ago."

He can't explain it. He's never liked children – insufferable little brats – but he's strangely attached to one whom he's never seen, and he'd be damned before he let Jim do anything to hurt it. It's absurd – he doesn't _want_ to be attached to this _thing_, but he _is._

He is, and he can't deny it.

It's not just the baby he's possessive of, it's Jim too.

"I hate the way the doctor was looking at you," he snarls as they drive home. "He'd look better with a bullet between his eyes."

Jim laughs and folds her arms behind her head. "That is a lovely image. Maybe after he's delivered the baby for us. It can be your present to it."

"First birthday maybe, when it'll be guaranteed to see."

"If we keep it that long. I might get bored."

It's not even a threat, that; it's Jim being honest.

In the time they've known each other, they've done a lot of _fucked up_ things, but none so much as making a new person. It had been an accident, but they'd done it. Jim is the very devil herself, and Sebastian? He knows he isn't much better. What would their child be?

He's thrilled and frightened all at once, all from a person he hasn't even fucking seen. He's only felt it.

Jim's not usually one for any kind of gentle affectionate physical contact; she prefers things rough and 'interesting.' Maybe it's because of the wretched creature, but sometimes she snuggles up against his back and wraps her arms around his waist. Sometimes, he can feel the thing kicking.

There's even one day where they're sitting together – Sebastian cleaning one of his guns, Jim texting with a client – when she takes his hand and places it over her growing stomach. He's about to tell her to piss off and let him finish when he feels the flutter beneath his hand.

Jim turns her head to him. "Now I'm sure you can see how _annoying_ it is," she says flatly, looking over at him through half-lidded eyes.

When the day finally comes, Jim's in the middle of a chat with a client who's failed her. She stares coldly at the screen, typing her answers back and ignoring the sniveling coming through the speakers.

It's Sebastian who notices.

"Jay."

"Not now."

"No, Jay…"

"I said not now. Don't make me remove your tongue; I rather like it."

"You would miss it too much to remove it," he reminds her, "but either you've pissed yourself, or your water's broken."

Jim looks down and studies her legs as well as the floor. "So it has." She looks to him with an utterly bored expression. "I suppose this means we have to go to the hospital or something?"

"Well I sure as hell am not delivering it, so yes." Though he probably _could _have, if he had to.

Jim shuts her computer and mutters about it being '_so inconvenient_.'


	9. Harvester

If she found the chat being interrupted inconvenient, the next fourteen and a half hours she spends in labour must really and truly _fuck up_ her schedule. Giving birth? Surely that could be rescheduled to a different day, one where she didn't have so much going on.

He's almost _proud_ of the little bastard for it's timing.

Almost, but he finds the 14 and a half hours of waiting to be _hell._ He and Jim never have to act like a 'normal' couple for more than an hour, two hours tops. Now, he has to smile at nurses and doctors and wear a goddamned ring because they're supposed to be married.

Jim, of course, thinks the whole thing is hilarious and plays the part of a first time mother and soft spoken wife with glee. It's all a game to her. She's giving _birth_ and it's still nothing but a game. She occasionally bats her eyes and tells Sebastian to hold her hand through contractions – which he _does_, of course, because she never forgets _anything_ and he'd hate to see how he'd pay for it later.

The ticking clock makes him antsy. He'd give anything for his gun, to put a bullet in the next person who gives him a sugar-sweet smile.

When their baby finally arrives after one last push and Jim crying out – Sebastian's not sure whether or not this is an act, normally she handles pain quite well and even _enjoys_ it – he presses a kiss to the tired mother's damp forehead as a good husband would.

Husband, pet… same thing to her.

"You have a daughter," the doctor announces with a wide smile visible from behind his mask. "Baby girl." He holds her up for both parents to see.

"Oh, she's beautiful," Jim breathes, and everyone in the room just accepts it as a proud mother's sentiment.

Maybe she is proud, but there's no sentiment, and Sebastian knows that she only sees their daughter as beautiful because she's covered in blood. But, he has to agree – she _is_ beautiful. That is, she's as beautiful as something scrunched up, screaming, covered in blood and mucus with a bit of dark hair on her head can be.

Jim reaches forward, eager to take the squirming bundle when it's handed to her.

"Tessa," she coos, holding their newborn close and running her finger over the tiny face. "It means harvester," she adds, looking at him and smiling.

Harvester of _what_, exactly, she doesn't say, but Sebastian can imagine what she has in store for their new daughter.

Tessa Temperance Morian enters the world and no one so much as bats an eye except for the parents who are planning her future as they hold her close.


	10. Normal

There isn't time in their lives for a _dog,_ let alone a _daughter._

Correction; there isn't time in _Jim's_ life for a daughter. She deems there to be plenty of time in _Sebastian's_ life, however. He disagrees. He even disagrees to her face, and all she does is laugh.

"Oh _Sebastian,_" she giggles, running a finger over his lips, "haven't you learned by now that what you think doesn't matter? It's my way, or they'll never find what's left of you on the highway."

After the fourth night with no sleep, he suggests giving the kid up for adoption. If it had been anyone else's kid, he'd have ditched it _anywhere_ by now. But she's his, and he _can't_. The thought makes him sick. Giving her away to someone who _wants_ her is a perfectly acceptable option.

Jim shoots this option down. "I have _plans_ for her."

"Then how about _her loving mother _looks after her sometime?"

"I do, occasionally."

But the majority of the time, it's him and a bottle of formula, and the baby girl who seems eternally hungry.

The fifth night, he pretends to sleep through the crying coming through the walls as well as the monitor.

Jim doesn't. "Sebastian, she's crying. Deal with her."

He doesn't move, but his grip on the pillow tightens just a bit. "You know what? It's your turn, Jay."

"No, I don't believe it is. _Go._ Don't make me threaten you; I'm not very creative when I've been woken up and I much prefer to be creative." She turns on to her side, away from him. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll have her trained to sleep through the night in no time."

Bitch.

The baby too.

The latter he tells to her face.

"You're a little bitch, you know that?" He tells her, lifting her out of her cot. Tessa curls up against him, quieting for a moment before screaming once more.

When he agreed to take the job as an assassin, he never thought he'd end up with a daughter. Had he known, he probably would have turned the job down. No, he _would_ have turned the job down, would have _never_ spoken to _her_ ever again and would have lived the rest of his life in disgraced mediocrity. Booze, sex, shitty flat somewhere…. It wouldn't have been the glamorous life he has with Jim, but he wouldn't be trapped.

He certainly wouldn't be sitting in a nursery, unwillingly feeding a baby who owns more clothing than he does.

"You are a bitch," he continues on, "just like your mother. You've apparently got her eyes and hair, but you've got her fucking demanding personality as well. You two will be quite a team someday, I'm sure. Once _I_ have you _trained_ well enough."

Tessa wriggles in his arms, her tiny hands flailing and folding about as she frantically sucks down the formula. She hasn't figured out how to use them yet. Funny; he'd had the notion that any child of Jim's would come out knowing advanced mathematics, but Tessa seems so… _normal._ One of her hands finds the one of his that's holding the bottle, and her tiny fingers lay against his.

Sebastian sighs and takes her hand, holding it with his against the bottle. "This is how you feed yourself. Do me a favour and learn this quickly so I can actually get some fucking sleep. I shoot people for a living, I need to be somewhat rested." Her eyes look up at him as he talks. "You're going to have me wrapped around your finger, aren't you? I'm going to bend over backwards whenever you want something." He shakes his head. "What'd I say? Just like your mother."

Just like her mother.


	11. Jealousy

Tessa is two years old when she takes an interest in Sebastian's guns.

He doesn't notice when it happens, just that it does. One day while he's cleaning his guns and has pieces occupying the space of the dining room table, there's bright blue eyes peering across from the other side. She doesn't touch anything, just watches, observing quietly.

The first time he notices her, he ignores her but watches her to be sure she doesn't touch anything.

The second time, she sits at his feet, blue eyes peering up through long messy blonde waves half tied back with a bow that probably cost more than most of his guns put together (He doesn't even want to _know_ how much her little crimson dress cost).

The third time, he sits her on his lap and explains what he's doing every step. Tessa stays silent but grins widely up at him. He decides that he very much likes that smile, and presses a quick kiss to the top of her head.

By the time she is three years old, she can fully operate any of Sebastian's guns, and even has a collection of working guns scaled down for her use; Mummy's gift to her, which seems to make up for the fact that Mummy doesn't spend much time with her. He takes her for target practice, and soon learns that she's not a bad shot.

Sebastian realizes _just_ how screwed up he is when he realizes that he's _so_ fucking proud of her, rather than being horrified that his three year old daughter is better at shooting than many adults, but he honestly doesn't care.

She looks over at him and beams, her safety equipment just a little too big and looking lopsided on her head. "Did I do good, Daddy?"

"You did fantastic, sweetheart."

"Will Mummy be proud?"

Unlikely. Jim chooses when she wishes to lavish Tessa with affection, and when she doesn't want to even acknowledge the girl's existence. She yearns for Jim's approval so much; _that_ he does find disturbing, and heartbreaking. "Of course."

Jim, for her part, watches the two carefully during the times she's at home and not busy with work. Sebastian sometimes catches her studying the little girl, her expression unreadable. Sometimes he thinks she may be jealous of how much like him Tessa is growing to be, not just in her hair and eyes – though she still has Jim's eye shape.

This is confirmed for him when Jim is particularly affectionate and handsy one night. Handsy naturally turns into much more, but it's different this time. Sebastian just _knows_ it (not that he complains; Sebastian's not one to turn down a good shag). There's something in her eyes, a cold determination of sorts. He tries to push the thought from his mind and focus on the _other_ sensations.

Still, he's not surprised when, a few weeks later when Jim is out undercover on a job, he wakes up to a plastic stick on the counter by the coffee pot bearing two pink lines.


	12. Fire

Tessa is four years old when the new one comes into the world.

Cesarean this time, because Jim's already been through a natural birth. She wants to experience what it's like to watch as the doctors slice into her and remove the tiny human from inside. Jim plays up being nervous, but Sebastian knows the shakes in her hands are from anticipation if anything – definitely _not _nerves.

He assures her that it will be fine, that he and Tessa will be waiting to greet her and the new little one as soon as it's over.

Their charade makes him want to gag.

Sebastian waits in what will be Jim's hospital room with Tessa during the procedure. Jim had declared that Tessa was far too young to be exposed to this (even though she's already seen a man's limbs artfully removed) and Sebastian didn't trust any of Jim's people to babysit his princess.

So they wait. Tessa sits on the floor of the room with a colouring book, babbling away about something or rather as she fills in the lines with a multitude of crayons. He watches her from the chair he has pulled up beside her.

He likes the abundance of red she's chosen.

Tessa grins up at him when she catches him watching. "He didn't listen to orders," she tells him seriously. "He was bad."

"How bad?"

She giggles. "Mummy had him first, then she gave him to you!"

"He was _really_ bad then."

"Fucking awful!"

He chokes back his laughter. "Shhh, my little cub," he ruffles her hair affectionately, using one of her many nicknames. She's not in trouble, no need to make her feel as though she is. "Don't use our secret words here."

Her brows scrunch together in confusion. "Why?"

"The nurses won't like it."

Her lower lip sticks out in a pout. "Bitches."

Sebastian agrees so he nods, but still holds a finger up to his lips. "Not here. The new baby will be here soon."

This changes the tone. Tessa sets down the crayon in her hand and gets to her feet. She stands before Sebastian and rests her chin on his knees.

"If the baby is a girl, will I still be your only tiger princess?" Tessa asks mournfully. "Or will she be it too?"

He lifts her up onto his lap. "Tessa, you'll _always_ be the only fucking tiger princess to me."

This satisfies her. "Shhh," she presses a finger against his lips. "No secret words here!"

As they soon learn, Tessa had no need to be worried.

Kenneth James Sebastian Morian is dark haired and snuggled deep in navy blankets when he is brought to the room. The little girl is enamored with him at once, and deems him fit to be a 'tiger prince.'

"What does Kenneth mean, Jay?" He asks as Tessa watches over the sleeping baby. Jim didn't ever pick a name for anything without there being a reason for it.

Jim smiles up at him. "Born of fire," she whispers, looking smug as ever.

Sebastian has to admit, it's fitting.


	13. Favourites

Kenneth is dark haired and dark eyed and as much like his mother as Tessa is like her father. For siblings, they are polar opposites, not only in looks but in personalities. This is apparent early on, but becomes clearer as they grow.

Tessa is a loud, seven year old ball of energy who's only quiet when she's really and truly focused on something, likely something she's aiming at.

Kenneth is quiet and sullen. For a three year old child, he doesn't talk much, not to Sebastian anyhow.

"He talks when you're at work sometimes," Tessa says with a shrug before thrusting a piece of paper into his hands. "Look! I got top marks in archery!"

"That's my princess," he says warmly, patting her on the back, careful not to mess her hair or her dress. She'd put a bullet in his favourite jumper after he'd once gotten a bit of dirt on her favourite Westwood dress.

Tessa shared her love of all things fine and pretty with her mother, but that was about all. Intelligence wise, their daughter is _smart,_ but not Jay level _smart. _She's more like him, only she brings home the good grades. His could have been better if he'd actually given a shit about them, but when he was her age, he didn't.

"Your mum will be home soon, is your bed made?" He asks.

Tessa sighs. "Yes."

"Teeth brushed?"

"Yes."

"Guns cleaned?"

For seven years old, her gun collection is beginning to rival his. "Yes, Daddy. Can I go play now?"

And by play, she means that she wants to go to the shooting gallery that Jay had built for her. It was her Christmas present a year or so ago. Jay lavishes the girl with gifts, but rarely attention. All the attention Jay has to offer goes to Kenneth. Jay cuddles him, and reads to him, and spends much of her time at home with him. She's training him to be like her just as she believes Sebastian has done with Tessa.

And she's doing a damned good job of it.

"Why're you still here? If your chores are done, fuck off."

Tessa beams and dashes to her room to pick out which toys will be her choice today. "Come play with me later, Daddy!"

He intends to, but first he intends to try to get his son to speak. The boy is watching a movie, sitting quietly on the sofa. "Hey Basher, what's on?" He asks, sitting down beside the child.

"Jack," he replies softly, looking up at his father with those big, empty eyes and smiling. The boy looks back to the TV screen, and absorbs every detail.

Sebastian picks up the DVD case from the coffee table. "Jack the fucking Ripper," he reads aloud. "Didn't you watch this yesterday?"

Kenneth nods slowly. "He's m' favourite."

Sebastian ruffles his son's hair – the boy's still young enough that he can without him throwing too much of a fuss, in fact all Kenneth does is smooth it back into place – and gets to his feet. The boy, just a little older than a toddler, makes him uneasy. "Mummy will be home soon, and I think the cook almost has dinner ready, so make sure you're washed up, all right?"

The boy just slowly nods.


	14. Playmate

Despite how different the two siblings are, Sebastian's never seen kids get along better than the two sitting together at the table. Tessa chats away, cutting Kenneth's food into small pieces for him, and he just watches her with a small smile. She dotes on him, and he always gives back some sort of silent appreciation.

Mummy doesn't come home until late that night, after both Kenneth and Tessa are tucked into bed, but when she does, there's a manic glee in her eyes.

"I think I may have found a new playmate," she grins, and Sebastian isn't sure whether or not to be hurt by this statement. Not that being hurt would do any good, so he brushes it aside.

"Playmate?" He asks instead, barely glancing up from his laptop. He's been working on a new book for a few months now, and the end is so close he can taste it. It's a fictional novel about a sniper for hire who winds up in a relationship with a deranged sociopathic genius and the family they eventually have. He's a bit blocked on how to end it, however. "What am I, then?"

Jay leans over his shoulder. "My toy, of course," she whispers seductively before biting down on the curves of his ear.

Toy. Useable. Replaceable.

But provides great enjoyment for a time, so he let himself linger on this thought instead. _He_ could make _her_ happy. This thought was actually quite comforting. They weren't forever. They were a time bomb that was due to go off, and some days he was surprised it hadn't yet already. He and Jay could never have a happy ending, and he would probably be disappointed if they _did _get one.

No, they would go down in one big blaze, and he craved and dreaded that day all at once.

His laptop finds its way to the table, and he finds Jay in his lap almost immediately. She still has her makeup on, and it leaves an odd taste in his mouth when they kiss.

"So, this playmate?" He asks between kisses and gasps for air.

Jay presses her thumbs against his windpipe and grinds down on top of him, a firm reminder of who is in control. "All in due time, darling," she hisses, but can't keep herself from smiling widely. "It's just rumours, right now, but I intended to investigate."

He gasps when she releases his captive lungs and does his best to regain control of his breathing while she nips at the red marks along his throat left by her fingers. "Does… does this playmate have a name?"

"Holmes," she breathes. "Mycroft Holmes."


	15. Warning

A/N: Working through old stories, expect lots of updates.

On another note, my Sherlock And The Baby series has had a crazy amount of hits this month, which I appreciate! Is it on a rec list somewhere, and if so, would someone please be kind enough to point me to it?

"Who exactly is Mycroft Holmes?"

Jay doesn't answer this question. Instead, she gives him a sad smile. "Oh Sebastian," she laments breathily, "and here I thought you might actually have been starting to be _clever."_

He resents this. Sebastian _is_ clever. Alright, maybe he's not as clever as her, or their son – because God knows that boy _is_ – but he's not as common as she believes.

Searching the name on the internet brings no results, but Sebastian is clever enough to see this as odd. _Everyone_ has something that appears on the internet when their name is searched, and the only exception he knows to this rule is Jay. Jane/James Moriarty brings no search results, something Jay has ensured.

That means that Mycroft has ensured this as well.

Not that Sebastian expects anything less of a man Jay has deemed worthy of being a playmate.

He's angry over this – he can't help it – and when he decides to help with dinner the following night, the slight, non-life-threatening knife injury the cook sustains is _purely_ accidental. Maybe. Mostly.

He gives her the name of a good doctor in a moment of slight remorse and tells her to fuck off.

Jay's not eating, she's too excited. The kids could deal with a grilled cheese. Hell, they'd probably prefer it to the fancy shit Jay makes them eat anyhow.

"Military?" Sebastian asks, and Jay doesn't respond. Her eyes are glued to her laptop. She's heard him though, he's sure of that. "Right. Not military. Business then?" No answer – no, wait, her head's tilted a bit. He's on to something. "Government?" A stronger tilt. "Business and government?"

"Careful with that knife, Sebastian," she says slowly instead as he brings the object in question through the block of cheese in front of him. "You may _cut yourself._"

Sebastian is clever enough to recognize that as a warning.

He isn't clever enough to heed it.


	16. Weakness

Sebastian does his own research on Mycroft during his down time – namely when Tessa is studying with her private tutor (they've had to pull her out of school – too many kids having _accidents_) and Kenneth is taking a nap. He's never truly alone anymore, so he makes the most of the time he gets to himself.

He is determined to find _something._ No one could exist and have no trace of them. He's damned sure of it. There has to be mentions of this man, or his relations. _Something._ He'll find it, eventually, the hard part is keeping Jay from _knowing_ that he's looking. Because if she finds out, he'll pay.

He was warned, after all.

He tells her that he is going to do some work on a new manuscript, and she acknowledges him with a limp sort of uninterested wave. To be fair, it is more than he expects to receive.

"Might have a job for you later," she calls after him. It's just to inform him, not to ask him. He doesn't mind.

"Thank _fucking_ god, I'm going crazy," he retorts.

This statement is rather true, but it's his newfound obsession that's driving him crazy, not his recent lack of hits. Though, the lack of work has been like an itch he can't quite scratch; only Jay's claws can do that.

He's just focusing on a bigger itch right now.

He's only just clicked on a webpage when he hears Jay in the doorway.

"What did I tell you, Sebastian?" Her phone's in her hand. Great, she's probably got a damn key logger on his computer again, and this time set to text alert for certain keywords.

His eyes flicker over the screen before he can let any sort of fear set in. Reading's a strong point, and his eyes take in the words dares to smirk, and looks back to her smugly. "Darling, I'm just researching his weakness."

Jay tilts her head but her eyes remain dark. "Weakness?"

So that's it - She's only been informed of his existence. Sebastian knows how she works. She's not been ready to fully commit to this new one – likely finishing a project first, which is why there's a hit for him - so she hasn't done any research yet. _Fucking typical._

Sebastian turns the laptop around. "A brother. Seems more accessible too."

He loves the smile that follows. "Good boy, Sebastian," she purrs. "Such a _good boy._"


End file.
